Where does your writing come from? Mine? Hell.

I was raised in a “Christian” home.  I use that term loosely because it was far from it.  The only thing that made my childhood home a “Christian” home was the fact that my parents professed to be Christians.  So let me give you a background of my parents.

My father was a Staff Sargent in the Air force.  He was born to a mother who lost a daughter before he was born.  When he was born, he was treated more like a girl for the first few years.  I saw a picture of him at what looked like about 4 years old.  My sister asked who that was and she said “YOUR FATHER.”  Now he was born in 1923 so it was now about 1927.  He was dressed in a dress that looked like a Christening Dress.  We asked her if that was a baptism dress because we were not Catholic.  She said no.  That is just what they wore back then.  I said, “NO MOM, THEY WORE KNICKERS BUT NOT GIRLS DRESSES.”  She just blew it off.  Let’s skip to his Air Force days.  All of us children were born on an Air Force Base hospital.  The last time he was in the Air Force was when I was about a year old.  He was kicked out and dishonorably discharged for what they said was unproven charge of child molestation.  It did not take him long to start on us girls.  I will go into detail in another post.  I was molested for about 4 years that i can remember.  At age 8, my mother finally kicked him out.  Even though I told my mother before, she never believed me until my older sister threatened to take us away from her because she had just gotten married.

My mother was a 9th grade drop out.  She would have been about 14 or 15 years old.  That was 1947.  She was raised in Kentucky and turned to religion in her high school years.  She never talked much about her childhood except her mother died at an early age.  She left home shortly after quitting high school.  She got married at age 27 and continued to work.  After my father was kicked out, she started to become abusive and told me I was a “hateful, dispiseful” child.  She told me I would never amount to anything.  She never took us to counseling and never told anyone about the abuse.  She constantly talked to us in a negative tone and even told me at one time I reminded her of my father.  That hurt.  She whipped us with a thick belt, metal flyswatter, green switches and any thing else she could.  I had cans and cake mixes thrown at me all the time.  She was always upset and always mad.  She turned to Harlequin Romance books and chose not to take care of us children properly.  She worked.  Came home and read and went to bed.  That was her cycle.

We did not read the bible in the home.  We sometimes prayed over our dinner.  We did not pray together as a family or like one does with a child at bedtime.  She just told me what I was NOT allowed to do such as, wear shorts in the summer.  When I asked her where it was in the bible, she never knew and never looked it up.  She just said THE CHURCH SAYS SO.  This was the norm for every sin I committed.

Needless to say, my teen years were spent having sex, smoking, drinking and taking drugs.  She sent me to live with my sister because she could not handle me(her words).  I was married at age 18.

The abuse I suffered from both of my parents shaped me into the person I am today.  In some respects, it taught me what NOT to do with my own children.  In other respects, it made my life a living hell of sex, drugs and alcohol.  My writing will reflect my upbringing and adult life.  You will find a recurring theme or two withing my books.  I write to reflect, to escape, to feel and to release.  How about you?



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